


Panorama

by milkymolle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkymolle/pseuds/milkymolle
Summary: “Wonder if the coffee still tastes like gasoline.”McCree is taking Genji to the Panorama Diner, and considering such commentary being provided on it, Genji is a little less than thrilled.





	Panorama

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first fic and idk what im doing.
> 
> this is basically "mccree takes genji on an awful date"

“Wonder if the coffee still tastes like gasoline.”

McCree is taking Genji to the Panorama Diner, and considering such commentary being provided on it, Genji is a little less than thrilled. But after an evening shootout, wandering about the desert, dripping blood, shaky with spent adrenaline, a pile of shitty, greasy pancakes sounds wonderful.

The other Overwatch agents sent on this mission had continued to take the payload down Route 66, McCree and Genji staying behind to stop the approaching Talon agents. It was a tedious job, and it reminded Genji of the past, the angry hack of a blade, explosive pops of a revolver, the commander barking in his ear. When Genji had sent a shuriken into someone’s skull, he'd turned to see McCree grinning.

“Just like old times,” he had said.

Genji wonders, as they walk in, how much of McCree’s past is in this diner, which ripped up red seat was his usual spot, what he ordered every day. In Blackwatch, McCree was touchy about the past, and naturally Genji is curious. He wonders if McCree feels the same cut that twisted in Genji’s chest when he returned to the Shimada home.

McCree huffs out a breath, hikes up his hat. “Well, we picked the right time to get dinner. Ain’t a soul in sight.” His thumbs are tucked into his beltloops, eyes scanning over the lonely tables. “Huh. Looks pretty much the same. Dirty as shit. Hey, they still have the old jukebox.”

“We could find something to play,” Genji suggests.

“Nah, it’s been broken for ages. Just there for looks. The music’s coming in on the radio over there.”

Genji smiles behind his visor. “You’re really selling me on this place, you know.”

An omnic in a pink dress and cap comes scuttling over to seat them, and McCree shrugs with a grin. “It’s part of the charm. I ain’t one to sugarcoat, anyways.”

They’re seated by the window, perfect to watch the sun setting, and they’re brought coffee. (A little awkwardly, as Genji has to request a mug for himself, no doubt being presumed as an omnic. The server seems mortified by their mistake.) After McCree politely takes of his hat, Genji removes his face plate, and still there is a stuttered fear in the back of his mind, an urge to cover himself, but he has learned to ignore it.

As he does so, McCree drinks his coffee and makes a face. “Yup, just how I remember it.”

Genji tries it himself. His eyes water. “Are you sure this isn’t omnic oil?”

“It damn well may be.” McCree dumps an obscene amount of cream and sugar into his mug. “Grows on you, though.”

Genji adds slightly less cream and sugar to semi-successful results. At least now it is worth the caffeine. He watches how the dying sun illuminates the valley, setting it ablaze in red, simply enjoying the beauty and the peace. He finds himself grateful to be there, still covered in dirt and blood, sitting in a grimy diner and drinking gasoline, thankful for this moment despite everything.

McCree is staring at him. At first he pretends not to notice, but eventually their eyes meet. Genji smiles sheepishly and holds his mug before his mouth, a little unconscious tick to hide some of his face. “Is something wrong?”

McCree ducks his head, a little flustered. “Sorry, I just—” He holds up his coffee as well. “I haven’t seen your face in a long time.”

Genji doesn’t know what to say. He blinks and nods his head, just a little.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you take that off in public before.”

Genji looks back out the window, unable to meet McCree’s eyes. “I do not do it often. But things are easier now.”

“That’s good.” They each drink their coffee, feeling something swell in the air between them. “You seem well. I’m happy for you, y’know. I—”

The server interrupts with two plates of pancakes. McCree and Genji both startle, having forgotten where they were. 

While they each drown their plates in butter and syrup, McCree breaks the heavy silence. “I remember the first time I got these, musta been five or six, and I thought this was the food gods ate. I thought nothing could ever be better than these greasy pancakes.” Genji smiles at the reminiscing, tries to imagine a small McCree, wonders if he wore a floppy, too-big hat. McCree takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “Dang. These are gross, but I think that’s why I like ‘em.”

They taste like buttery, sugary fat, and Genji eats them with vigor. “You came here often then?” he asks between his bites.

“Yeah, this was my gang’s old haunt. We’d sit in the far back booths and eat out the whole damn kitchen. I think they were too scared of us to kick us out.” McCree wipes some syrup from the corner of his mouth. “When we didn’t have the money we’d flash our guns and they’d forget about the tab.”

Genji is a little surprised at the admission. “My family was the same.” He remembers being sandwiched between his brother and father, strolling into expensive restaurants with blades at their sides, the staff sweating and trembling as they rushed to serve them. He feels ashamed to think back on it, and he wonders if McCree feels a similar regret.

McCree pauses with his fork in his mouth, glances up at Genji, and looks about the whole of the diner. Genji waits for him to say something. Mouth full, McCree mumbles, “This place fucking sucks.”

Genji laughs a little, but stops at the look on his face. “This place is a part of your childhood. It must be important to you.”

“Yeah, and don’t I have great fucking taste.” McCree swallows and stabs at his food. He looks almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry for bringing you here.”

“I wanted to come here, McCree. This is nice.” Genji leans forward, watches him more closely. He looks haggard in the harsh lighting of the diner. “You don’t seem well. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, I just—” He waved his hand vaguely. “My whole life’s been a big mess. This place is no better. I wish we hadn’t come here.”

“It’s—”

“I shouldn’t have answered the recall. I’m not right to be with all you good folk.” McCree’s knuckles went white, tight on his fork, almost bending in his hold. “You’ve got your whole goddamn life figured out, and you’re out saving the world, and I’m just fucking…I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve been wandering around getting wasted for the past five years. Now I’m back sitting in this awful diner eating these awful pancakes at seven p.m.”

The radio crackles with interference. A slow, sad song plays, nearly overwhelmed with static. Genji stares at McCree, who stares down at his soggy plate. The hand clenching his fork is shaking.

Genji covers the hand, hoping his own isn’t too cold. He thinks about the first time they held hands: on the ride back from a mission, everyone deathly quiet. They’d lost almost half the team. Despite the clear-cut memory, Genji couldn’t remember which of them had reached out first.

“I am happy you are here. I’m happy to be here with you.” Genji hopes the words mean something, anything. “And I hope you know that everyone else feels the same.”

“I don’t want you to pity me.”

The words are harsh, merely because of their familiarity. Hands tried to comfort him, and he smacked them away, as if they could burn the metal he wore, he _was _—__

__“McCree.” Genji is not pushed, so he does not pull away. “I know better than to pity.”_ _

__McCree finally looks at him again (funny, considering how fiercely he stared earlier) with something like regret, for his words or this place or everything before this, Genji didn’t know._ _

__“Do you ever miss it?” he asks, earnest. “Blackwatch? When we—”_ _

__He does not need to finish his thought. Genji thinks on it; he has not missed anything for a little while now. Not when he has what he has now._ _

__“I’d never thought you so sentimental,” he says instead, only a little teasing. “Do not get lost in the past. See what you have now.”_ _

__McCree is staring again, down, where Genji’s hand is on his own. A heartbeat passes, and he drops his fork, twists his hand upward, loosely curls his fingers. Genji isn’t sure if he imagines the warmth of his skin._ _

__The sky is purpling, the sun’s touch growing weaker, and a few stars are fading into view. The server brings their bill, and as they argue over who will pay, Genji receives a transmission. He uses his unoccupied hand to answer, hearing Lena’s chipper voice. How’d it go, we’re all fine, a successful mission. Genji gives McCree a little nod as he talks with her. He looks relieved, perhaps even happy._ _

__McCree ends up paying on the insistence that this was “his place” and should be treating. (Plus, a little apology for the free meals he’d gotten back then.) He lets Genji tip. (He does so generously.)_ _

__The twilight greets them coolly. McCree’s hat and Genji’s visor are replaced against the chill, and they survey the road ahead. Genji sneaks a glance at McCree, admiring how the dying light looks across his face. He is still so handsome, after all these years. Just a little scruffier._ _

__“We’ve got a bit of a trip ahead of us,” McCree huffs._ _

__“Thankfully we are well-fed and full of caffeine,” Genji replies, the smile in his voice._ _

__McCree smiles back, sheepish. “Alright, no need to butter me up. The night ain’t getting younger, and neither are we.”_ _

__Genji tuts. “You sound like a grumpy grandfather. We are not _that _old.”___ _

____“Tell that to my knees.”_ _ _ _

____“Are your knees young enough to get walking?” Genji starts toward the road, throwing a look back at McCree. “Or should I carry you?”_ _ _ _

____McCree grins, all yellowed teeth. “Sweetness, don’t blame me if you make me swoon.”_ _ _ _

____Genji barks with laughter and shakes his head, walking further along. McCree’s spurs jingle after him. The road seems endless in the dark, and Genji finds that he doesn’t mind._ _ _ _


End file.
